


Guardians

by hala_macaron



Series: My heart belongs to words and is stained with ink [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, It would make for a great collaboration, Multi, Someone call Tim Burton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24319594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hala_macaron/pseuds/hala_macaron
Summary: They say everybody has someone looking out for them.A guardian of sorts.
Series: My heart belongs to words and is stained with ink [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755703
Kudos: 1





	Guardians

They say everybody has someone looking out for them. A guardian of sorts. For a long long time, longer than I dare estimate or think about ( I have been around for some time after all) I had thought that to be a particularly bold yet fantastic lie. Either that or I was an exception to that small rule. Alas, neither was true.

When I was young ( this time around at least, I cannot be sure of the times before) I had this strange habit of encountering animals on the verge of death. Mostly rabbits but often also birds and once a hedgehog whose guts rose with every last breath the poor thing took. I was sad and I grieved for them. It might not sound like I did, I know. I speak about those things with indifference now because they are no more than hazy memories.

As I grew older I started dreaming. Not that kids don’t dream, they do, no need to worry. Generally they do not dream about important things though, those dreams do not stay with them.

I dreamt of broken glass and colourful lights in the dark, the shards greedily gobbling them up. There were jeers and shouting and I was running (running running running), feet padding on soft moss and tripping over sticks and stones. The shouting didn’t stop. They were following someone who didn’t even know where to go. Hunts like these are bound to fail. Nowhere to run, nowhere to go, everywhere to run, nowhere to pinpoint the prey.

I dreamt of endless grey skies with no clouds in sight and unmoving lavender fields. They would not have moved if there had been any wind. I remember the castles and huts there. They must have stood tall once but whenever I came to visit they were reduced to ruins. That place was filled with thick suffocating silence. The only resident was an old woman clothed in colourless rags. Her hair was silver and reached down to her knees. She always waited for me, let me wander around and when I became scared she hushed me, telling me that I could run for now but not forever. And I? I ran, like she predicted, time and time again.

I dreamt of carnage, of blood and severed limbs decorating the paths and roads of my neighbourhood. I remember throwing up at the sight of it ( in my dream). I don’t remember who did it. Perhaps it was me because when I looked at my shaking hands they were stained red. Everything stank of iron. I woke up well rested and went about my day.

I dreamt of unknown parks illuminated by strange lanterns and of faceless men who were impeccably dressed hunting me down. I dreamt of hiding away with friends I never knew, of shoving a bat down someone’s throat and splintering it, leaving his hands bound and him choking on the floor. One faceless man down. The other followed shortly after. I remember asking questions I forgot the words to. I think the answers were horrifying because I remember dread and fear. I remember killing him, bringing a hammer down on his head like a silently seething executioner. I dreamt of neon smoke shortly after, of cheers and maniacal screams for freedom and justice when red and blue lights filled the night.

I dreamt of a pit, of being trapped and a person laughing without tone. This one was over more quickly than any of the others. It felt like minutes of agony and fear, when it reality it was hours of it. I don’t know if that realisation was for the better.

I dreamt of a city so dark at night it swallowed every crime and scream. I remember being on lookout with a group, protecting someone and trying to get them to safety. I was scared. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something…someone move. They were as black as the darkness around us and taller than anyone there. I wanted to turn around, eliminate the threat if possible but I couldn’t move. They put their hands on my shoulders and I still remember the words they whispered in my ear.

“You are too tense my dear. Relax, little one, I will help you. But you need to wake up, do you hear me?”

Their claws pierced my skin yet it didn’t hurt me. Pressing down with all their weight they hissed at me to wake up. And I did. I awoke to their weight continuing to press down on my shoulders and to a hearty chuckle before they vanished like unasked questions in the darkness.

I dreamt of mountains overcome with water that started to freeze everything around it. I ran, pulling people with me. I didn’t recognise them but I knew them. I don’t remember how long we ran or how we found ourselves in a sled not unlike Father Frost’s. What I do remember is pushing my way to the front, the water around us gaping and snapping. I froze us a way, willing the air to help push us faster and it worked. We didn’t lose anyone on our way there but I’m afraid I lost someone important after we arrived at the manor hidden in snow. He held me close when I knelt. Neither of us mentioned his tears. He pressed his forehead against mine and smiled. It was a watery smile, all grief and sadness and pained laughter because you don’t want to let the person in front of you go.

“ I don’t want to go,” I told him and he laughed at that. Curious, I don’t remember the sound of my own voice.

“ I know. I don’t want to let you go.” He smiled again, and everything inside me was torn apart with dread. “ I’m sorry my love.”

And he was gone. Or maybe I was gone. I think that’s more likely than anything else.

I was screaming and crying, spiralling through the air in a car without a seatbelt on. We were sure to crash into one of the mountains. The wind was howling and didn’t seem to care for anyone’s desire to not lose their sense of hearing. Opening a portal and getting the situation under control once I yelled to one of my companions about Yggdrasil was easy. We got separated. I unfolded my wings and started flying, on my own terms this time ( I miss flying more than almost anything else). I arrived at a dried out lake surrounded by trees larger than life. Cow ribcages and skulls were everywhere and fresh cadavers hung upside down in the trees. The storm hadn’t been merciful.

A cut. Now I stood in front of a king begging my friend and me to take the job. She said yes and we went out in the snow. She would drive the carriage and I was to ensure she wouldn’t break in when we delivered everything across the river. I trusted her, of course, I always did. But this? This was difficult.

It was cold and wet and the ice beneath my feet was too thin to hold a carriage. Whoever once said winter was blue wasn’t wrong but they were certainly not right either. This winter was the coldest shades of blue imaginable, coupled with sharp greys and cruel unforgiving white. Making the ice thicker, strengthening the path before, below and behind me was exhausting. But we did it. She kissed me and for a moment, the world was warm and filled with giggles and air that was sweet to the taste.

Then the ice broke beneath my feet. I fell. Again. I woke up.

I dreamt of a woman wandering around a peculiar train station. The lamps had been destroyed but the fires still burned, changing colour whenever a new train arrived.She was confused and in pain, hysterical even. Tears streamed down her face as she wandered around, sobbing and trying to capture anyone’s attention. None of the others talked to her, some ignored her, others shot her a pitying look. She was unable to get onto a train. The sea of souls parted for me. They were avoiding my gaze, shying away from it. I didn’t know why (I still don’t) but back then I didn’t care either. I took her hand.

“ My children,” she gasped out between sobs, “ I need to find my children, they are in danger, I need to be there.”

I shook my head, trying to convey as much warmth and security as I was able to.

“ Your children are safe, I made sure of that. You are stuck. You need to go now, it’ll be alright. Your children are safe.”

She boarded the next train. It was made out of gold and looked more like multiple carriages strung together. I have never seen eyes as purple as the ones peaking out beneath the hood of the train driver. They were curious. I smiled. The train took off again and the flames returned to their merry orange.

I dreamt of blind rage. I knew neither reason nor logic, not mercy. They had taken something from me, something important. Someone important. How dare they, I would make them pay. I threw someone of a waterfall ( my most dear companion will never cease teasing me about it), I set a town on fire and watched them burn, relished in their screams of terror and pain. They tortured her, them. They would earn pain in return. Destroying their armies and slitting their throats was fun while it lasted. I did not care for people who slaughtered their own without hesitation out of misplaced hatred and fear. They wanted to hurt me as well, put me down and make me pay for what I had done to them. None of them ever touched me. I was a force to be reckoned with. They had killed my other half, burned and banished the missing part of the scale. They had upset the balance we swore to keep. And when you destroy balance, destruction will thank you for it.

I dreamt of a helping hand when I was panicking, picking me up and cradling me close in layers of darkness. They promised to watch over me and help, protect me when necessary. They brought me to a cottage and told me to go inside. When I asked them who they were, they chuckled and told me that I already knew. It would be revealed when I woke up.

“Go to sleep here,” they had said, comforting as a blanket on an icy night, “and wake up there. I won’t abandon you.”

They kept their promise. I woke up and their presence lingered in my room, absentmindedly patting my head and vanishing a few minutes later. I went back to sleep, the old women’s laughter echoing in my ears. She had been right. I couldn’t run forever. I don’t want to.

Death is looking out for me. I have stopped running.


End file.
